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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594004">Heaven is a Place on Earth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overwhelm/pseuds/Overwhelm'>Overwhelm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brief mention of John and Mary Winchester being the source of his trauma (wbk though), Canon Divergent, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Declaration of Love, Destiel - Freeform, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Human Castiel (Supernatural), I'll have you know... I've only seen 1 season of this show lmaooooo (season 1), M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Yearning, but anyways how was that confession amirite?, destiel is very much canon, idk how to tag tbh, is this ooc? i wouldn't know. i get all my spn info from tumblr, jack kline mention, led zeppelin mention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:55:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overwhelm/pseuds/Overwhelm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck was gone. The world was mending its bones in the wake of rebirth. Sam left the bunker too, a future on his horizon.</p><p>Dean stayed behind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Heaven is a Place on Earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is set vaguely... years after the events of 15x19, where Chuck just died and Cas was still dead/stuck in the Empty.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the time came, Dean was there to see them off.</p><p>Sam still insisted on walking through the bunker door one last time. He took in the smell of gun grease and old wood in the air and closed his eyes, distilling the place they called home in his memories.</p><p>He looked at his brother.</p><p>“Dean--” he began, and had no idea what to say.</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” Dean said, “it was about damn time you and Eileen moved in.” He smiled, warmth in his eyes.</p><p>Sam smiled thinly. “You call if anything happens, okay?”</p><p>“You know I will."</p><p>The sun was kind, lining the edge of the battered building with a golden glow. Eileen was beside their (now totally average) car, and Sam stilled temporarily, watching the breeze rustle through her hair, wild and lively.</p><p>She tilted her head at him, a smile quirking up at her lips, and signed, “Is everything okay?”</p><p>Sam shook his head a little, out of his stupor. “It’s a beautiful day,” he signed back, hands less hazardous now. “this is going to go well, right?”</p><p>Eileen laughed, and hugged Sam, leaning her head against his chest. She looked up at him then, eyes clear as water. “We will be alright, Sam. All of us.”</p><p>Sam hugged back tightly. It was the end of summer. Apple season. The world had lost some of its harsh, jagged edges since all that’s happened, mellowed as much as humanity would allow. Dean was tough, he knew this.</p><p>Besides, there were no monsters now.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Dean took odd jobs, hands and head full of eclectic knowledge for another world. He was a mechanic then he was a shooting instructor then he was a librarian for a while (shut up, Sammy). He explained to kids the differences between a leviathan and a nephilim then pointed them to the Mythology section. He took apart and put together car engines, dismantled and reassembled gun pieces.  </p><p>Mostly he liked losing time in his work, mind full of bolts and wiring, seeing things fit together like jigsaw puzzle pieces. He hummed along to songs too - restless - shaking his leg to the rhythm, the rumble of drums and the glee of electric guitar gliding through the melody. There were Lynyrd Skynyrd and AC/DC, Pink Floyd and Guns and Roses.</p><p>Dean was content.</p><p>Dean did not listen to Led Zeppelin anymore.</p><p>One time he had been lying beneath Baby, fixing up her underbelly with his phone blaring music when suddenly Dean dropped his wrench on himself, bruising his arm.</p><p>He didn’t notice because the slow strum of guitar was starting, and all he could think about was: <em>He loved this song. He loved the song so much. Why did he stop listening to it?</em></p><p>Dean got out from under Baby and turned it off, car grease smearing the screen. Robert Plant stared back at him through the screen, half-solemn.</p><p>
  <em>Ooh, makes me wonder…</em>
</p><p>He closed his eyes.</p><p>Something hit his cheeks. He opened his eyes, realising it started raining and it was coming fast.  He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, thinking of going back inside. A drop of water slid down across the side of his face, made it down his neck.  No more miracles now, just another unlucky bastard caught out in the rain.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He slipped back into the habit of making dinner. On days he felt a little lighter, he bought home steak and grilled them, grinning as it sizzled. He bought mince and tried to make his own burgers, experimenting perhaps a little wildly with ketchup and various sauces (Cranberry! Chilli!). Soon this escalated to making pies, starting the crust from scratch. Cold butter, not room temperature. Combined with flour using the tip of his fingers.</p><p>He looked at the chopped apple and cinnamon filling, thoughtful. Then he wondered, would it be good if he added honey? How would it taste?</p><p>It <em>was</em> good, he thought, eating it on the couch later that night, and it was funny – funny how he still thought about it. He huffed out a laugh and shook his head a little, remembering the divine and the damned. And he thought to himself, was any of it real? His hands remembered. Their faces were vibrant in his head, the history vivid.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>  Dean, I don't think you should always stay up so late. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  Dean, I don’t see how cold turkeys correlate with sobriety.</em>
</p><p> <em>Dean, you should get some rest.</em></p><p> <em>Dean, I’ll go with you.</em></p><p> <em>Dean, knowing you has changed me.</em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He woke up one morning from a dream.</p><p>It went like this: he and Sam were on a case, except this house was their childhood home. He kicked the door in and lead the way with his gun, and sure enough, Mary was burning on the ceiling. Except she was awake and crying, saying “I love you,” then it was Cas who was on the ceiling, the singed black remains of his wings melded to patches of his trench coat, and <em>he</em> was saying “I love you.” And John was in front of Mary-Cas and he pointed his gun to Dean, shouting “get away from them!” and Sam was young again, so Dean shielded Sam’s eyes the best he can, except he didn’t have enough hands to cover his ears too.</p><p><em>I’m sorry,</em> he tried to say. To each of them or all of them. <em>I’m sorry I’msorryi’msorry</em>. But the words wouldn’t come out, he opened his mouth to find himself hollow. <em>I’m sorry.</em></p><p>“Sorry,” he said, and woke up. His heart was pounding but the dream was fading from his mind like sand through his fingers. He remembered that he felt deeply guilty, that there was an ache inside his chest, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He laid in his bed in the darkness, staring into nothing.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Apple season came and went, came and went, came again. Dean washed a bowl of them, but it laid there forgotten. Sam was a blubbering mess on the phone.</p><p>“This is <em>amazing</em>, Sammy. No – seriously. You'll be a fantastic husband, you hear me? Of course. I can’t believe you finally popped the question. Oh – you’re coming over? Right now? Yes, of course.”</p><p>They hung up and Dean let out a whoop, grinning like an idiot. His little brother, all grown up. Dean couldn’t be any happier for him.</p><p>Sam was there regularly enough that he barged through the door, almost knocking Dean to the ground as he opened it. He pulled Dean in for a hug. “I’m getting married,” Sam said, incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.</p><p>They got out a few cold beers from the fridge and clinked the glass bottles together.</p><p>“To you and the missus,” said Dean.</p><p>“To a better future,” said Sam.</p><p>“To all that we got through to get you here.”</p><p>“To all that we lost,” Sam said, “and all that is yet to come.”</p><p>Dean vaguely raised his bottle to the sky, and took a swig.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Winter crept in and Dean put a jacket on when he went grocery shopping. He scanned the aisles, taking in the names of off-brand cereals and toilet paper. The cold electric light silently washed over the supermarket, announcements mechanical and incoherent in the background.</p><p>He carried the two bags in his hands on the way home, the wind biting into his skin. The only gloves he had were thick and leathered with worn lines from the dig of hunting rifles, so they remained forgotten at home. The cold burrowed its way to his finger-bones, especially on a night like this, where the sun seemed like it would never come up again, leaving the world with only the pale glow slipping out from windowfronts.</p><p>Dean wound his way to the bunker on a familiar trail, turning right at the junction. He momentarily glanced at the thin sliver of moon in the sky, seeing how the greyness of the city gave the dark sky an almost ink-black canvas, no stars in sight. This was how he missed it.</p><p>He set his gaze forward, swayed in his steps, then promptly dropped the bags of groceries on the ground. A bottle of juice rolled out into the traffic road.</p><p>Said a voice like dusty gravel beneath worn wheels, said a voice like the prayers of a forgotten sanctuary, bleak and holy: “Hello, Dean.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Dean fell to his knees with a thud. Cas flinched at the sound. He took a step forward, then stopped, the distance stretching out between them like an unimaginable rift.</p><p>Dean was looking up at Cas like he was an absolution.</p><p>He was wearing the trench coat, disheveled, and his tie was crooked. Above him, a streetlamp doused him in soft light. It coated half of him in an ethereal glimmer, drenched the other half of him in shadow.</p><p>Castiel was looking at Dean like he was his soul.</p><p>The silence was palpable. Tentatively Cas walked forward, and Dean saw the street light glide away from him - yet he was pulling into focus. He saw the whole of Cas: the gentle set of his jaw; his furrowed brows; his eyes blue as the heavens. Dean was numb. He had no knees; he had no legs.</p><p>Castiel reached out to Dean with a trembling hand. It was a familiar ritual, a practised dance. <em>Take my hand. Get up. </em></p><p>Except Dean was still staring at him, eyes wild and unbelieving. Cas hesitated, curling his fingers inwards.</p><p>Dean raised his arm, unthinking, and grabbed on to him like a lifeline.</p><p>“Dean—" Cas started, and Dean came back to himself, scrambling up. </p><p>He embraced Cas with every last strength in his body, so tightly that his arms shook. Cas stilled a little, then put his arms around him like he was holding something frail and precious.</p><p>Dean then thought that maybe Cas was hurt in some way, and maybe he shouldn’t be hugging him that hard. He opened his mouth to ask him if he’s alright.</p><p>“I missed you so much,” he choked out instead. “I missed you so much.”</p><p>Cas held onto him a little tighter. “I missed you too.”</p><p>The grief inside Dean collapsed like a dam; he was so dizzy with it. He closed his eyes. “You were gone,” he said. “You weren’t around.”</p><p>He realised he was hollow then, carrying himself around like porcelain, waiting and expecting to shatter. Something inside of him had been carved out, and now he was feeling the ache of the echoes inside his chest. He pulled Cas to him, tighter, as if it could mend the yawning fissures inside of him. He felt Cas’s radiating warmth, felt the beat of his heart. He would tear apart every last fragment of himself to keep it beating.</p><p>Cas’ breath was shaky. “Dean, I was in the empty. Jack did everything he could to pull me out. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”</p><p>Dean was sobbing too. “You’re an idiot,” he felt the plunging weightless joy inside him, grasping onto purchase. He let it fall. “You’re back for good?”</p><p>Cas pulled away from him slightly. “I know this may be hard for you. You don’t have to…”</p><p>Dean frowned. “I don’t have to what?”</p><p>Cas looked away. “What I said, before I was taken…”</p><p>Dean laughed through his tears. “You thought I’d stay away from you after that? Cas, I…”</p><p>He knew then. Or maybe he always knew. “You were my best friend,” said Dean. And it was fitting itself like a jigsaw puzzle. The pain he carried with him, the life he put on hold. The joy he felt – he feels – holding him, seeing him. “I love you,” Dean said.</p><p>Of course he did. It was the simplest truth in the world, as certain as ocean tides. “I loved you,” he said again, and it was like stitching himself back together again. “I would have loved you if the fucking sky fell down. I would have loved you if the world ended. I loved you when you were dead, and I loved you when you were alive. I would have loved you any way I can get.”</p><p>Dean looked at Cas, feeling a little insane. “I didn’t know I could have more ways to love you. I wish I did.” He pressed his forehead to Cas’, and he felt himself blush, suddenly abashed. “I love you in every way, Cas.”</p><p>Then he leaned forward, and gently, as if it was just a whisper on the air, kissed Cas on the lips.</p><p>Cas froze at first, then kissed back, and Dean could feel Cas smiling a little between their lips.</p><p>“You have become uncharacteristically verbal about your emotions,” he pointed out.</p><p>“I’ve had time with it,” he replied.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Dean had a honey-apple pie in the oven when Sam came knocking on the door.</p><p>“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, embracing Cas. “How did you come back?”</p><p>“Chuck left a few loose threads when he ceased to be God,” Cas explained. “Jack struck a bargain with Amara that they would release me as soon as they called up the last supernatural entities roaming the earth.”</p><p>“Let’s toast a drink to the kid,” Dean said.</p><p>“Cheers to that,” Sam grinned.</p><p>They drank in silence, thinking of Jack.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re back," Sam said.</p><p>“Well, there was a stipulation to my return,” he shared a glance with Dean. “I had to... become a human again. Leave my grace behind.”</p><p>Dean’s gaze was as soft as the morning sun. “As long as we have you back.”</p><p>Sam thought to himself, <em>no buddy or pal tacked on at the end?</em> He thought he was funny until he realised that Dean and Cas were having a moment again. They were looking at each other (like they always did) but Dean’s neck was kind of red, and he was pretty sure that Dean had never looked this happy, the brightness almost jumping out of his skin.</p><p>He cleared his throat. “Is congratulations in order?”</p><p>Dean and Cas both turned to look at him, confused. Idiots.</p><p>“I mean, are you two…” he made eyes at them.</p><p>Dean coughed. “We, um…”</p><p>Cas looked at Dean, then said “I believe a congratulation is in order.”</p><p>“Congrats, then,” Sam said. “I mean, <em>finally. </em>I thought I’d never see the day. You realise how awkward it was, third-wheeling you all the time?” He got serious. “You’re good for each other, really. Thank you for coming back into his life, Cas.”</p><p>Cas smiled, a little shy. “Congratulations to you too. You and Eileen make a wonderful couple.”</p><p>Everyone was blushing in the room. Dean cleared his throat. “What is this, <em>The Notebook?</em>”</p><p>“I mean, I always thought you had something for Ryan Gosling <em>and</em> Rachel McAdams.”</p><p>“I understood that reference.”</p><p>“That is totally wrong…”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Sam and Eileen’s wedding was beautiful. It ended up being held on a gorgeous meadows on a sunny day, although they did play with the idea of a church wedding just for laughs (maybe… cover up Angel Gabriel’s face with a cloth?). Sam’s law school and new law firm friends were there, sitting in posh suits and gowns. Secretly, Sam agreed that Eileen’s friends seemed a lot more interesting. At least the remaining hunters and hunter-adjacent people made up for the fun on his side. The family they'd made along the way: Bobby, Donna, and Jody talking at the bar; Claire and Kaia giggling over their food; Charlie and Stevie struggling to sit still. Plus, Cas could always freak people out with his thousand-year stare. And Dean, of course, as his Best Man - his blood family, the one constant in his life. He wouldn't change them for the whole world.</p><p>There was a lot of crying (from Sam mostly) during the procession. He memorised his vows in ASL, and found his hands shaking. But by the time they moved on, the sentimental mood had subsided, and the crowd was fully in the middle of uproarious drinking, laughing, and dancing.</p><p>The band they got was an especially loud one to the chagrin of a few, but Sam didn’t mind it. He could feel the vibration of the drums from inside his chest, he knew that Eileen could too, and they skipped their way through an ear-bleeding rendition of <em>Whole Lotta Love</em>.</p><p>He thought that he couldn’t love Eileen more than anything on earth.</p><p>He looked over to Dean and Cas dancing somewhere to the right of him and it hit him why Dean lived at the bunker for all that time, even when it seemed that there was nothing left for him. He had been waiting for someone. He would have waited for his whole life.</p><p>“What?” Eileen asked him.</p><p>He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m sappy today, I guess. I was thinking about the power of love.”</p><p>She looked at Dean and Cas and laughed. “Like I said,” she kissed him. “we’ll all be alright.”</p><p>The band moved on to the next song.</p><p>
  <em>Ooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ooh, heaven is a place on earth.</em>
</p><p>“Hey,” Dean said to Cas. “do you ever imagine us standing up there?”</p><p>“Are you proposing to me, Dean?”</p><p>“No, I’m not stealing Sammy’s thunder today. But imagine. What would you say?”</p><p>“I would say that I love you. That you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. That I wake up, and I think about your beating heart, and I feel lucky that I’m alive next to you in this world.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Dean?”</p><p>“You know, you’re pretty good at speeches. But I’m gonna one-up you that day. I swear to make <em>everyone</em> cry. It’s gonna be perfect.”</p><p>“…”</p><p>“Really. I’ll start practicing now.”</p><p>“So, what will you say?”</p><p>Dean thought about it.</p><p>“That I love you,” Dean leaned forward and kissed him, tasting wedding champagne on his lips. “That you make me a better person every day,” he kissed him again. “I can’t imagine waking up without you,” Another kiss, slower this time. He hesitated, stuck on words. “You’re… a <em>bad-ass</em>.”</p><p>“It’s a good speech, Dean,” Cas replied, a little breathless.</p><p>“I’ll keep on practicing.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>-</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Later that night Cas kissed him again, tender. Dean took in the smell of him, all earth and wool. He held his face in his hands, felt the pulse beneath his skin. It would never get old, loving Cas. </p><p>Their souls were weathered and mortal, their stories foreign and strange. The open sun-burned roads of Americana laid beyond them like an old song. They were fleeting, impermanent, ephemeral. They had all the time in the world. </p><p>They were going to be alright.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WHEW!!! I wrote this from 11pm to 4am last night and today while ignoring my assignment. But anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it. Comments will be much appreciated. Mwah</p></blockquote></div></div>
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